"Mileage test?" he was saying skeptically as he sat down uninvited across the table from Illya. "Nobody that gives a damn about mileage is gonna buy one of these. Lemme see that notebook; I'll bet you didn't even write my name down." He reached across the table toward Illya, practically dragging his jacket sleeve in Illya s coffee.

Illya irritably flipped the notebook open to show the man his name, Charley Lampton, and his address, meticulously recorded. Lampton turned abruptly to Armden and swung his arm around to point at him. "What about you? You're old enough to be their father. What are they up to, just between us old-timers, hey?"

Armden looked resentful, and avoided answering by taking a large bite from his Deluxe Iglooburger.

"He's a research physicist, and he's not my father," Napoleon said irritably.

Lampton turned his attention to Napoleon, who quickly snatched his coffee out of the path of the old coot's arm as it swung around like an erratic compass.

"Hey?" Lampton said.

"I said he's not my father," Napoleon repeated.

"Never said he was. Okay, if you're checking mileage, what is it? Hey?"

"24.7 at the last stop," Napoleon answered quickly. "We hope to do better than that on the way back, on the turnpikes and expressways," Illya added.

"Hey?" said Lampton. They repeated their statements. Lampton cackled. "You're pretty fast; you work together real well." He suddenly poked a finger at Napoleon's tie clip. Napoleon automatically jumped back, slopping a good portion of the coffee out of his cup.

"Real fast," Lampton said. "Sorry about that. I'll buy you another cup, hey?"

"It's all right; I'm already filled up with coffee."

"Hey?"

Gritting his teeth, Napoleon decided it would be easier to let the old coot buy him a cup. The man trotted off to get it, returned with it before the agents could get away, and planked himself down to watch Napoleon drink it.

Napoleon took a sip to be polite, decided that he really was filled up, and got up to leave.

"Don't waste good coffee," Armden said, picking up the cup and draining it hastily.

They walked around a bit for a final limbering-up before crawling back into the cramped car.

One hour and forty miles later, Napoleon shook his head violently. "Filled up or not, I think I should have drunk the coffee. Do you feel like taking it for awhile?" He glanced at Illya, who shook his head sleepily.

"Better not," Illya said slowly. "I don't know what it is, but I feel too tired to move. Maybe we should stop awhile and try to get a little sleep." Napoleon nodded agreement and started looking for a stopping place. On the outskirts of a small town he spotted a large drive-in and pulled in. As he nosed the car into a parking stall, Illya muttered something sleepily without opening his eyes. Armden was also dozing. After-effects of the drug, Napoleon assumed, since the man had had enough sleep for two or three people in the ordinary course of events. He stifled a yawn as he dropped the car keys into his pocket and walked slowly over to the self-service window just around the corner of the building.

He had just stepped out of sight of the U.N.C.L.E. car when another car pulled into the drive-in and parked a few stalls away. A young man jumped out and walked hurriedly up to the driver's side of the U.N. C.L.E. car. Without hesitating, he slid into the driver's seat.

"Dr. Armden, Mr. Kuryakin," he said. "You will obey my orders. Both of you get out of this car and go down to the black sedan. Get in it and sit quietly."

There was no response except a muffled snore from Armden. Muttering to himself, the young man shook Illya and Armden awake, then repeated his orders. The sleeping men roused slowly and stumbled out of the car. The young man had to repeat his instructions a third time before they began walking slowly toward the black car. He watched them a minute to make sure they didn't fall asleep on their feet, and then reached for the ignition key. The key was missing, and he swore feelingly, then got back out and crawled into the car head first so he could get at the wiring under the dash. He was still in this undignified position when there was the sound of squealing tires and the slam of several car doors behind him. Seconds later a bearded face was peering at him through the open door on the passenger's side.

"Hey, that's a tough set of wheels. Never saw one quite like it," the face commented enthusiastically.

"Yeah," came another voice, presumably feminine, from behind him. "What kind is it?"

The man looked up hastily and banged his head on the steering column. "None of your business!" he snapped. "Get out of here; I'm busy."

"Yeah," the feminine voice replied. "We can see. Whatsamatter, you lose your keys?"

"Yes, I lost my keys. Now will you quit bothering me?" He looked toward the rear of the car and saw a big, rectangular box on wheels blocking the U.N.C.L.E. car in completely. "And get that thing out of the way!" he shouted, pointing at the offending object.

"I know how to hot-wire a car," came a polite voice from behind the girl. "I knew a guy who liked to take joy-rides. Anyway, maybe I can help you." A long-haired youth came forward, dropped to his knees and began looking under the dash.

"Wow!" he exclaimed a moment later, "What is all this stuff under here?"

The man stood up and looked around. There were a half dozen of the kids around. According to a blazing red and yellow sign on their car, they were the Thundermugs, whatever that meant. One of the new folk-rock outfits, possibly. He swore under his breath, and walked to the front of the car, where he motioned frantically to the black sedan. A hulking man got out from behind the wheel of the sedan and pushed past Illya and Armden.

"Get these kids out of here, Andy," the smaller man hissed as the hulking one approached. "And get that crate out from behind this car."

"Sure, chief." The large man reached down and plucked the hot-wire expert out of the U.N.C.L.E. car, setting him down none too gently on the asphalt.

The bearded youth came forward, protesting. "Hey, we weren't -"

Andy placed a large hand under his chin and shoved, sending the boy staggering back against his own vehicle. Turning, he reached for a girl who had been sitting on the hood of the U.N.C.L.E. car, patting it and saying "It's cute," to no one in particular. The girl squealed and hopped off the hood on the side opposite Andy.

At this moment, Napoleon came around the corner of the drive-in, carrying a plastic tray loaded with coffee and sandwiches. "Illya! Dr. Armden!" be shouted, dropping the tray. He pulled his gun, and started forward. Illya and Dr. Armden, hearing their names, halted by the side of the black sedan and looked around.

Andy had started to pull his own gun, but the smaller man grabbed him by one arm and headed for the sedan at a run. Napoleon raised his weapon but the kids and then Illya and Dr. Armden were in the line of fire.

The two Thrushes started to force Illya into the car but Napoleon's shouts roused him enough to put up some resistance. The smaller Thrush made a grab for Dr. Armden, but changed his mind as Napoleon approached. He leaped into the sedan instead. His larger companion had already switched on the ignition, and they roared out of the drive-in with squealing tires. Napoleon sent a futile shot after the car as it disappeared down the highway. The Thundermugs, grouped around the U.N. C.L.E. car, looked on with evident enjoyment.